Cynthia Pittmann, PhD is a writer based in Puerto Rico who motivates people to write and live a creative connected life through sharing her own stories, poems, and photography.
"The meaning of life is to find your gift, the purpose of life is to give it away." ~Pablo Picasso
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8 comments:

I have to admit that when I first looked at this poem, it impressed me as too simple for my taste. But then I read it out loud and I began to understand the ethos you selected for this poem. After all, we all struggle with inner conflict-even as children. Sometimes it is hard to accept that the voices we have internalized are not on our side!

The Pink Cowboy sent an e-mail about his reasons for writing since my survey didn't give him the options that his individual creative spirit needed- still he said I could share them with you."I cannot possibly vote because I do not write on account of the ideas you selected. In fact those four ideas are a starting point for me to express why I need to write:1. To muddle my thoughts into eternal oblivion, The babbling of ages so to speak!!!.2. To dismember what's important.3.To retain stress and jet it into sheer energy.4.To resist. I write because I love, because I hate, because I have the foaming rabies and the delicate tenderness of the human." Thank you, too, for the gift of the "glorious peacock"...I would like to post an image here of one I have in mind but I think the comment section doesn't allow it. (I tried.) Thank you for your appreciation of my poetry and may you alway honor the love that you give and receive knowing all along that essentially, you are love.

Writing for me has always felt like a sort of cocked trigger waiting in the back of my mind, ever ready to unload as soon as I read, see or hear something inspirational. (Touch and smell should not be excluded either)

Suddenly a barrage of words will shoot off in response to the overall stimuli. Thoughts that work their way through my head in and out of sequence that will need to be re-arranged like those magnetic poetry kits that they sell at Borders.

Inspiration for me can spring from a beautiful movie soundtrack, an injustice that strikes up a specific mood, or even a simple poetical stanza. Sometimes the simplicity of a simple guitar chord or the metric pulse of a percussive pattern is all it will take to send me off into fantasy land.

Whatever it may be, the wheels are quickly set in motion and words will come furiously as I try to keep up with them to capture and organize them on paper, napkin, a recorder, or even toilet paper. (Damn it! I need to carry around a journal.)

Eddie, do you really write from inspiration? I used to approach writing that way but now I just sit down to write, start writing, and then the inspiration comes to me, I guess by invitation. It's true though that music or an inspirational scene in a movie, or an intense event creates a desire to write but sometimes that feeling fades by the time I get to the pen/paper/computer. I do hold images in my mind though so I can write about them later. Thanks for your carefully thought out reflection. BTW the poetry kits bother me because I never feel finished. What about this word I overlooked here... and then I have to change that, and that... and when you are finally satisified-enough-it's all mixed up again...poetry on a fridge...maybe it could substitute for over-eating! I guess I'm not hungry. I think I'll just stop here and move these words around a bit...

Cynthia, I have to admit that sometimes inspiration does indeed get lost by the time I’ve reached pen and paper. I forget where it was that I once read that writing is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration. There is definitely some truth to that

This has also happened to me when I’ve come up with some beautiful melody while playing my guitar. If I don’t record it right away, I tend to forget it. Now because of the elements involved in music like phrasing, meter and dynamics, it makes it so much harder to remember if you don’t have a way of capturing the idea on the spot.

Lately, I’ve been carrying a small digital recorder in my car just in case. At least that way I can spew whatever words come into my mind or hum a melody into the device before it is completely lost.

I find that when words come accompanied by a melody, it sort of forces my hand to follow the structure of that melody. The only problem with that is that now I have to cut syllables here and there, work out rhyming schemes and make everything fit nicely to flow with the song.

Of course some of what I originally was shooting for may get lost and I now end up with a lyric or a poem. But in the end, it serves its purpose of writing for me.

I agree about those poetry kits on the fridge, just when you have something down, you look over and see that lingering isolated word that begs to be interjected somewhere. Then when you do put it in there, somehow the meaning is lost.

Right now there is something up on our fridge that says “Imagine a dark cloudy dream and a blue mountain song” (Huh?)

Sometimes I think I limit myself when it comes to writing; I have a feeling that it will be there kind of frozen and when my mood changes, I won't really agree with what I wrote-exactly. Maybe that's why I just write about what I am sure is a constant. I think I have to let that go, afterall, we all grow and change. Our ideas begin to shift over time-to be authentic we don't have to believe what we wrote five years ago. Like your garden, Cynthia, sometimes our thoughts happen when we are ready for them to happen. namaste

PHOTOGRAPHY by Cynthia Pittmann

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About Me

I am a writer of prose and poetry, life-artist, friend to humans, animals
and nature.
In the OWL blog, I post my photographs and write about living in Puerto
Rico as well as offer creative writing ideas, explore art, music,
photography and discuss books I'm reading.
I have a PhD in literature and my dissertation, "Interactive
Autobiography," focuses on developments in contemporary autobiography.
At the moment, I am working on two non-fiction writing projects.
One is a memoir about my mother, Susan Pittmann, who was murdered in a
hate crime (along with her wife Christine Puckett). The other project is
an experiential book about creative writing.
Readers who enjoy POETRY and PHOTOGRAPHY, I invite you to SUBSCRIBE to
my blog at cynthiapittmann.wordpress.com.
You are welcome to connect with me at these social networking sites:
1. INSTAGRAM
http://instagram.com/cynthiapittmann
2. TWITTER Cynthia Pittmann @oasislink
3. GOOGLE+ Cynthia Pittmann
4. BLOGGER oasiswritinglink.blogspot.com
5. TUMBLR cynthiapittmann.tumblr.com
6. PINTEREST pinterest.com/cpittmann/
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Susan Pittmann and Chris Puckett

PFLAG Straight for equality

Pittmann-Puckett Art Gallery

LGBTQ support organization: My mothers were founding members of Affirmations in Downriver Michigan

The Indelible Heart

The second novel that references Mom and her partner is published! (click to order)

Susan Pittmann (16 years old)

Mom's playful spirit is thriving on Oasis Writing Link™

Mama by Il Divo "Thank you for all that I am...I hope you are proud of me"

Invitation

I invite you to follow the hyperlinks to Brian Alexander's Pittmann Puckett Documentary (the rainbow over Michigan image) and Marianne Martin's new book, The Indelible Heart, both of these creative projects are related to the murders of my mother, Susan Pittmann and her life-partner, Christine Puckett. Supporting creators such as Brian and Marianne helps us to cultivate a more humane and loving world.

The Pittmann/Puckett Documentary

My mother square dancing in red cowboy boots. "Swing your partner 'round and 'round/ with a pocket full of rocks to keep you down."

Can we realize our connection?

Most people are on the world not in it-have no conscious sympathy or relationship to anything about them-undiffused, separate and rigidly alone like marbles of polished stone, touching but separate. John Muir

Compassion Opportunities

The Soaring Impulse

It has been my experience that whenever one human being reaches out to another in compassion, a bridge is built. A bridge which leads out of despair, into the light of hope and the possibility that tomorrow will hold a few less tears than yesterday.